


Give it Time

by arazialotis



Category: Actor RPF, Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M, Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-09-01 04:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arazialotis/pseuds/arazialotis
Summary: Months have gone by since the boys lost their beloved Y/N to Zachariah. She was transported to another world. That’s all they had to go on. But now that Y/N has been returned, she struggles to recall any memories of her past with the Winchesters, and the ones she does remember seem to conflict with reality.





	Give it Time

Conventions were not really your thing, ever. You couldn’t stand the crowds, the mix of emotions, spending copious amounts of money only to spend a few seconds with your celebrity crush. And yet, you were drawn to them over and over. Each time going bigger, just to get closer to him. To spend a few more precious moments. Hoping to build a stronger connection that you knew was one sided.

This weekend you rode the high, knowing soon it was soon to come crashing down. Only a few hours left to go as you waited in line for autographs. You held your photo of Jensen close, eagerly anticipating to see him again. Yet you were currently in line for Jared. Honestly, you had no idea what you were going to have him sign. Perhaps, just saying hi would be enough. Letting him know how much ‘Always Keep Fighting’ meant to you.

You rounded the corner, a line of fans still in your way. It was the first time you had seen Jared this close up. He was sitting down, signing and engaging fans. He was bright and bubbly; full of excitement and energy. That was until he saw you. Jared was scanning the upcoming fans, mentally preparing for what was coming. His positive persona dropped with the expression of his face.

“Y/N?” He stood up as he spoke your name.

Your heart dropped, utterly confused in the moment, panicking yet crying out feeling like part of you was discovered. He jumped the table and ran to you, embracing you in his strong arms. Fans, staff, and you all shared the same bewilderment.

“I thought I’d lost you forever.” He whispered, holding you back to get a better look at you. The expression on your face tipped him off. “You don’t remember?” His brow furrowed.

You paused at a lost for words. You chuckled to cover up your concern. “Is this like punked, or something?”

You saw his heart break in his eyes. “Um, uh… will you come with me? I’ll explain everything.”

A security staff cautiously approached him. “… Jared?”

“No!” He objected and grabbed your hand. “I’ve waited too long for this!” He pulled your hand to follow him. “Trust me.” He whispered to diminish your resistance.

You followed him out of the crowd, trying to avoid looking directly into fans’ phones as they recorded the incident. He brought you down a long hallway, pacing fast but hoping to avoid suspicion from other cast and staff members. He found an open office and pushed the both of you in.

Once behind closed doors he pulled you close once more. “Please, tell me you remember something…”

“Uh… Sorry, I think you may have me confused with someone else.” You pondered.

He shook his head. “Listen, you must think I’m crazy, but I need to bring you back. Maybe then you’ll remember.”

“Back to the line?” You questioned as he hastily rummaged through his pockets. Your eyes widened upon the vial of blood he fished out of his pocket. “Oh.. Okay…” You pointed towards the door. “I’m going to go find someone to help us, Jared.”

“I’m not Jared!” He slammed his fist against the desk. He gritted his teeth, realizing how frightened you must be. “It’s me. Sam.”

Your mouth hung open, at a loss for words. Either he was a way better actor than you initially thought, or this had gone past the point of a harmless prank and he had snapped. As he rummaged through the desk you slowly backed towards the door considering making a run for it. He became satisfied with an old ashtray and tossed it up top when he noticed you.

“Hey. Please.” He begged. “Just hear me out is all I’m asking. If this doesn’t work, you can call me crazy or whatever. Five minutes is all I’m asking.”

Your hand let go of the the door knob and you nodded your compliance. Jared snapped the vial open and you cringed as he poured it into the tray. He began chanting some unknown language and but the words were drowned out by the pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe your eyes as droplets of blood defied gravity, reaching up.

“Castiel…” He called. “I’ve got her.”

He reached out his hand towards you but you were frozen in place. Wind seemed to pick up from nowhere and banging sounded from the other side of the door. He ran over to you and forced you closer to the desk. With a loud crackle and flash of light you were pulled out of the room, through time and space, landing in the bunker.

You couldn’t breath. You gasped for air, every fiber in your being panicking. “Shit!” You screamed. “Jesus fucking…. Fuck!”

Jared, or Sam, or whoever the hell he was, immediately knelt down by your side, supporting you as you went down to your knees. “Hey, it’s okay.” He soothed. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

The one with green eyes, came near you too. “Breathe Y/N.” But when your eyes met his, that was the last thing you could do. In a way, he was identical to Jensen whom you had seen only hours ago, yet at the same time, completely different. Almost, familiar. When he was finally convinced you were at a point no longer a danger to yourself or them, he greeted his brother by slapping him on the shoulder. “Welcome home, Sammy. Job well done.”

Sam searched your face and it was still apparently clear you were lost. He looked at his brother. “She doesn’t remember. To her we are just those douche-bag actors.”

Dean nodded his head and rubbed his hand against his jawline thinking. “You still have some of that herbal crap?”

“Above the cereal.” Sam confirmed.

“I’m going to brew her a cup, and uh, Cas. Maybe you could take a peek inside?” Dean suggested, tapping against his temple, before heading to the kitchen.

Sam coaxed you up into a chair and found a blanket to wrap around your shoulders. He tried to keep a respectful distance but you could still feel his lingering gaze on you. Dean quickly returned a few minutes later, with a steaming mug of tea in his hand. His hand lightly grazed your shoulder and you felt a little bit of tension lift.

He took a seat next to you as Castiel approached. He held up his hand signalling for Castiel to wait. “You don’t have to do this Y/N, but you mean a whole lot to me and especially my brother over there.” You grabbed the mug and looked into it as he spoke. “We went through a lot of trouble to get you, and this isn’t a guilt trip by any means, we’d do it all again… ‘cause…” He seemed to be searching for words. “Because you’re family.” He looked at his brother seeking approval of his words.

You looked between him and Cas, shrugging your shoulders. “Yeah, you can read my mind, or whatever you want to do to make yourselves feel better. But I still think you have me confused with the wrong girl.”

Sam shook his head. “I’ve known you better than anyone for the last four years… and there’s no doubt in my mind.” He stared at you longingly.

You pressed your lips together and found Castiel, inviting him forward. He reached out towards you, warning you before making contact. “This may hurt a little.” His index fingers rested against your temples. Both your eyes and his illuminated a light blue glow. You chewed on your lower lip, attempting to stay strong through the stinging sensation running through your mind.

Although Castiel was not finished he began explaining. “Her memories are fragmented but still there… It seems Zachariah did more than simply banish her… he twisted her mind, gave her new memories of the other world…” He stepped back. “It may take a while for her to recover, to shift through reality, but I think she will come around it the end. Just give it time.”

Dean sensed the heaviness that hung over Sam. “Hey, maybe if we show her around, her old room, favorite bar, closed cases, it could jog her memory.” He proposed, hoping to lighten the mood or at least shed a ray of hope on his younger brother.

“It’s worth a shot.” Cas agreed.

Sam pushed himself up from against the desk. “Yeah. Great.” He muttered bleakly and left the room.

Your glance darted between Dean and Cas as they shared a look.

“I’m sorry I’m not living up to your expectations but…” You began to defend yourself but Dean interrupted.

“Hey, no. It’s okay.” He stopped you. “No one is expecting anything from you. All I ask is that you stick it out a couple days before making any decisions. And whatever you choose, even if that means going back, we’ll respect it.” You nodded. “Maybe we can just start out by showing you your old room.”

“Yeah. Okay.” You got up to follow him, cup of tea still in your hand.

“Perhaps, she should lead the way…” Castiel suggested before leaving to another room.

“Good idea.” Dean extended his hand forward.

You reluctantly lead the way. It was easy enough to go from the library to the kitchen, but entering the hallway left you clueless. You looked left and right, your feet not being able to push forward.

Dean nudged you forward. “Give it your best shot.”

You sighed and pointed to the first one on the left. “That one.”

He sensed your abandonment of the mission. “You actually have to try.”

You sighed once more and meandered down the hallway, painfully aware Dean was breathing down your neck. Even though his presence made you anxious, like you were taking an exam and afraid you were going to fail, you were glad it was him, instead of one of the others, aimlessly wandering these halls with you.

You slowly passed each door, reaching out for some connection, but moved on feeling empty each time. You were about to pass another one, but turned back, feeling a small tug around your heart. You traced over the brass room numbers with your fingers, thinking this may be it. 11. Dean eyed you curiously, but remained silent.

“This one.” You made up your mind, you didn’t need to see the rest.

Dean chuckled leaned against the opposing wall, before kicking up and opening the door. “Well, being one of only three occupied rooms in this entire dungeon, I’ll give you half a point.” The door swung open and you instantly recognized it as a wave of his musk hit you. “This is where I lay my head to rest.”

Though he said it was his room it still called you forward. You turned to him asking for permission. “May I?”

He nodded, encouraging you forward. You took a few steps in to fully examine it. It look so similar to the one you saw on tv. Guns displayed on the wall, weapons lining the mantle, of course a record player and pictures of his family on his nightstand. But it felt like it was missing something.

The dresser was wrong. It should be white, smaller and longer, with a mirror behind it and a chair in front. And there should be a painting hanging above his bed. Nothing fancy. Just bare branches blooming whites flowers against a blue sky.

You could see yourself relaxing on the bed, jamming along to some CCR on the record player. Dean jumped in beside you, a big mug in hand filled with ice cream. He lightly kissed you on your forehead before handing you the mug. The same mug you held now. You shook your head, knowing it was just your imagination running wild.

You cleared your throat and stepped back into the hallway. “So, can we put an end to all these guessing games?”

“Room 16.” Dean stated and pointed down the hallway.

“Thanks.” You followed his direction.

The door was closed just as the others. You felt a tingle of familiarity, but not as strong as you did with room 11. Perhaps it was all just wishful thinking. Dean waited silently behind you, giving you time to think. The door knob felt cold in your hand but you pushed through, revealing the room kept inside. You froze immediately recognizing the dresser from moments before.

Your bed was neatly made, with a comforter resembling falls colors of orange, green, gold, and brown. There was a painting easel in the corner with several filled canvases stacked against the wall. Next to the standard sink and mirror in every room was another standing cupboard filled with makeup, hair products, and jewelry. But you still felt lost. Almost colder compared to room 11.

“Not what you were expecting?” Dean broke the silence.

“… I guess I didn’t have any expectations.” You thought aloud. “I painted. In the other world too.” You recalled. “Not that I’m any good.” You laughed. “Here or there.”

“You’ve always been too hard on yourself. I like them.” Dean went fishing through the stack. “I always thought they’d look nice hung up. Give some life to the place.” He stopped at the blue one with branches and white flowers, and your eyes widened. He leaned them back up. “But you’d never let me.”

“How about when the Met hangs one, so can you.” You teased.

He chuckled. “That’s what you always say.” Your smile dissipated, wishing you could remember. Dean sensed it. “Hey, like Cas said, give it time. It’ll come back to you.” You nodded your head agreeing feeling some details may already be, even if they were blurring together, incorrectly. “Why don’t I give you some space, you can look through your stuff. Sam or I will come check on you in a while, k?”

“Sounds good.” You agreed. “Thanks Dean.” You called as he left you alone in your room.

After he left, uneasiness crept back in. You felt like a stranger peering into someone else’s life. You started on the surface level, looking for a journal, a phone, perhaps to give you a look into your past life. A phone was found tucked away in the nightstand drawer but without power. While you left it be to charge, you rummaged through the rest of the space.

The cabinet by the sink held simple makeup; bare tones occasionally with a flash of pink or a stark black. The jewelry held no special meaning to you. You ran your fingers through beaded necklaces and metallic bangles. Your fingers hovered over a plain silver ring. You picked it up, closely examining it. It was too large, perhaps only able to stay put on your middle finger or thumb.

You tried to strengthen the connection, searching your mind for a memory. But it remained blank. You slid it onto your right middle finder. You went over to the closet to peek inside. A few power suits, skirts, and jackets filled it. A few shoes scattered on the floor. You stepped up on your tiptoes searching the top shelf, but only dust collected there.

Nearby the sound of music started up. Dean must have turned on a record. The pile of paintings seemed to be the next obvious choice. You fished out the one with white blossoms from your daydream and placed in on the mantle over you bed. The rest of the paintings were mainly abstract, paint on canvas, a way to process your thoughts, some of them very dark with tones of black and red. A few landscapes here or there, nothing really speaking to you except the few blank canvases on the bottom itching to be filled with paint.

The buzz of the phone signaled it had regained power. You sighed and sat down on the bed reaching over for the phone. At first, it asked for a password, but you couldn’t recall. Your thumb brushed over the home button and the phone unlocked. It must have recognized the fingerprint. Hesitantly, you started with photos. You scrolled through each one, trying to jog a memory.

It was mainly just selfies of you and Sam, occasionally you’d have a shot of just the boys, or your arm extended trying to fit the three of you in one frame. There were photos of scenery from your trips, food or menus of restaurants you liked. You laughed aloud coming across one of Dean taking a bite out of a burger.

There was another of him driving, the back of his head but green eyes looking through the rear-view mirror. Your feet were sprawled out on the rear bench, though Dean had told you time and time again to keep them on the floor. It had been raining that day. The pitter patter accentuated by the metal roof of the car. Sam had been sleeping up front and Dean softly sang along to the radio. It was the first time you had heard him sing, seriously that is. He stretched his arm along the edge of the seat. You resisted at first, but reached up and grabbed it. Dean said nothing. His thumb gently traced over your knuckles. Then he went back to humming as if nothing had ever happened.

You heard a knock on your door and your heart jumped out of your skin. You flipped your phone off and onto the counter as if a being caught in a guilty moment.

“Hey.” Sam’s voice called. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You shook your head. “No, its no problem.”

He cautiously entered the room further, with a box full of clutter. He motioned towards the bed. “May I?”

You nodded your head giving him permission.

He sat on the edge, setting the box on the floor, still giving you a respectful distance. You subtly peered into the box, full of clothes, books, and a laptop. You wondered if it was stuff of yours that had come from his room. He interrupted your thoughts. “I… I came to apologize. For the way I acted… I…”

The named Jared almost left your lips, but you corrected yourself before it was too late. “Sam, there’s no reason for you to apologize. I should be the one…”

“No.” He stopped you. “I had almost given up hope Y/N. We searched for months on end, I was planning to quit entirely. I had enough of filling his shoes, smiling when half my heart was missing. And then I saw you, and it was like life itself returned to me. I guess I acted all a bit too fast, but I couldn’t lose you again. I should have taken more time to explain, but then again, the look on your face showed you’d never believe me unless I dragged you back.” He paused analyzing your face. “The way you look now says you still don’t.” He looked back down at his own hands, tapping a fist into his palm, trying not to let his weakness show.

You felt stuck. In between wanting to comfort him yet afraid it would be giving him false hope. You’ve seen some evidence, felt false memories, but it all seemed so wrong. But your compassion won over. You reached over and rested your hand on his shoulder.

It sat there, for a few moments, as you tried to ponder the correct thing to say. “I know this is hard on you. And it’s not fair. I wish things jumped immediately back to normal for your sake. But I feel like a stranger here. Lost. I don’t know what my role is, what my past is. Hell, I don’t even know where the bathrooms are.” You earned a small smirk from him. You took your hand from his shoulder, placing it back in your lap. “I know you’ve been patient, but I’m asking you to stretch that even more. Like Cas said… We just gotta give it time. Okay?”

He nodded. “Ca.. Can I give you a hug?” He hesitantly asked for permission.

You nodded and opened your arms. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. You gently stroked his back, keeping your eyes on the door, wishing it was someone else.


End file.
